


We Close Our Eyes

by MYSTERYstew



Series: The Anomaly AU [4]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Assassination, Five is thirteen, Five loves his family, Five's dislike of tea, Gen, Gratuitous amounts of coffee, I both love and hate tagging, Might POV switch in later chapters, One upping your forced family sibling, Platonic Meet Hate, Poor Bob, The Handler being the Handler, There's a coffee thief, Training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MYSTERYstew/pseuds/MYSTERYstew
Summary: The thing is……Five really doesn’t like Lila.Or Five goes on his second assignment, discovers the ambrosia that is coffee, and gains a forced family he hates.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Lila Pitts, Number Five | The Boy & The Handler (Umbrella Academy)
Series: The Anomaly AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934554
Comments: 19
Kudos: 41





	1. The World Has Turned Around Again

**Author's Note:**

> I did not expect to write this out, but then yesterday I freaking sat and put this to paper on a whim. Progress.

Five walked the halls of the Commission alone to answer the Handler’s summons.

It was not long ago that he would be constantly accompanied everywhere by the woman herself, never really allowed to be alone unless he was in his room sleeping.

But that had changed after his first assignment. Five passed initiation he supposed, despite his… _reaction_ afterwards. Spilled blood in the name of preserving the timeline and shackled himself further to the Handler. He was apparently now trustworthy enough to be allowed in the halls unaccompanied.

It had been days now, just shy of a week, since that first assignment and now he could only assume he was about to get another.

The Handler’s secretary waved him inside the office when he arrived, smiling at him absently. Five kept his face schooled as blank as he could.

He hadn’t been around the Handler much since that night. When they’d returned to the base the Handler had not taken him to his room, instead she led him to her office. Five had felt wrung hollow, hardly processing his surroundings in his numb state. The Handler sat him down next to her on one of her couches, hand combing through his hair as he’d stared blankly ahead.

“Everyone’s first time is different. Their reactions unpredictable,” The Handler whispered against his head, leaning against him. “It gets easier each time. You may find that you even enjoy it.”

The problem was it was already easy, that once he’d started the Carson’s had ceased to be people and just became obstacles in his way, and part of Five knew he should be horrified by that. The small naïve part of him that wanted to remain untainted by this new world he’d stepped into. An idyllic, foolish notion that he should’ve obliterated sooner.

Five didn’t voice his thoughts, allowing the Handler to continue her ministrations like some maternal creature, like she hadn’t cornered him and made him look into the darkest depths of himself. He wishes he could avoid her and ignore what happened that night and how he’d humiliated himself in front of her.

Instead, he opens the door to her office and steps inside. _Calm, calm, calm, calm,_ he chants in his head, hoping his face doesn’t betray his discomfort of being back in the room. The Handler is behind her desk as usual, looking through some papers.

But what catches Five’s eye are the set of teacups sitting out. One by the Handler’s elbow and the other across the desk and in front of the chair Five never sits in. There’s sugar spilled all over the surface surrounding the second cup and the wood of the desk is scuffed with dirt. Someone had propped their feet on the Handler’s desk, had felt comfortable and confident enough to do so.

“Number Five,” the Handler greets, setting aside her work to focus solely on him. Five moves, ignoring the cup to settle in the seat to the left of the other. “Tea?” the Handler offers.

“No, thank you,” Five replies. He’s never enjoyed tea, finding it to be nothing more than water with an unpleasant flavor. Allison had become obsessed with all the different kinds of teas and forced her siblings to sit and taste them with her. Five had been banned after the first taste test for spitting the tea out.

“Very well, straight to business. You have a new assignment.” She grabs a folder from on top of her pile, eyes not leaving Five as she does so. Her look is assessing, most likely looking for his reaction to the news, searching for any distress or unease within him.

He can’t feel much of anything either way. Maybe he’d shed all his emotion after the Carson’s or maybe he’ll have a breakdown again after this assignment. In the moment he feels a general acceptance, this is the way things will be from now on (until he figures out the equation) and so there is no use in getting worked up.

The Handler seems satisfied with his non-reaction. “We’ll leave in an hour. The target’s name is William Shafford…”

***

The man is a degenerate.

A desperate man with no control over his darker impulses, multiple counts of assault, each one worse than the last.

“He’s escalating,” the Handler explains as they watch the target from a roof. He blends in well with the crowd, sporting the long hair typical of the era and the bright and more relaxed clothes of the 70’s. The Handler has swapped her usual style of dress for a less flared and more sheath-like style and opted for tall red boots to match. “The police haven’t been able to identify him through the victims and they never will. Soon, he will find that simply leaving his victims alive is not thrilling enough and he’ll have his first kill. Eventually he will leave Washington state in search of a new hunting ground.”

“He’ll be a serial killer,” Five comments, watching the innocuous man.

“It is the golden age of serial killers.”

Then why kill this man specifically and let so many others continue to prey on regular people? “He…kills someone he shouldn’t,” Five posits slowly.

The Handler’s lips curl, “Very astute. A disruption of the timeline is caused by the death of one of his future kills. But we’ll fix that tonight.”

***

They wait and watch Shafford as the light of day disappears early in the pacific North-West. He goes about his day just as any normal person, stopping in cafés and sitting on park benches to enjoy the warming weather of early spring. He’d be nothing of note if not for the way his eyes track the people around him, following their moves with assessing eyes.

Now he prowls, stalking a small woman on her way home from work. She remains unaware of the predator hunting her and looking to whet his appetite.

Yet, the predator himself is unaware that tonight he is someone else’s prey.

“Quick and quiet,” the Handler orders as she passes Five a knife.

Five could argue that a silenced pistol would do the job just as well, but he recognizes the knife as the very same one he’d sliced Sophia Carson’s throat with.

Another test.

Five meets the Handler’s eyes, sees the calculation shadowing her, the challenging curl to her lips.

He takes the knife in a steady hand and disappears in a flash, jumping the short distance from the roof down to the street with only a small stumble.

***

William Shafford doesn’t see what hits him until he’s crumpled to the ground in an expanding puddle of his own blood.

He paws weakly at his throat, choking and gasping, eyes wide with panic and fading light.

He’s a despicable man, of that Five is sure.

Five expects to feel something. Satisfaction at taking this man out, similar to how he felt taking down criminals with his family.

It’s nothing quite like that.

Five watches the man convulse in his death throes, eyes wide and losing awareness beyond the realization that he’s dying. Trying desperately to reach for some impossible thing to save him. He looks remarkably similar to Sophia as she faded away under Five’s hands. That despite how very different the two are, they’ve both come to an end in much the same way and felt the same fear of death.

In the end Five doesn’t feel much of anything as William Shafford stops moving.

***

The Handler is pleased when he returns.

Together they travel back to headquarters via briefcase. Upon their landing in the arrivals section they are immediately accosted by Carla, the secretary looking harried.

“I’m sorry ma’am but she couldn’t wait, and I tried to keep her out of the office while you were gone,” Carla rambles quickly.

Five’s eyebrows jump. Who would be ballsy enough to barge into the Handler’s office?

Contrary to Five’s expectations, the Handler smiles without a trace of malice. “That’s quite alright, Carla. Would you bring tea to my office?” The secretary nods quickly, obviously relieved by the answer as she hurries to do just that. The Handler turns to Five, “I have to attend to this meeting. You are free to return to your quarters.”

Five almost asks if this is the same person she had tea with earlier but restrains himself. He doesn’t want to linger or get himself dragged into a situation he’d rather not be in, and the Handler has given him the rest of the day off essentially, important hours he can use to work on his equation in secret.

He nods and turns.

“Hold on a tic,” the Handler orders, and Five freezes, worried she’ll rescind her previous order. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, wetting it with her tongue and then grasping his chin to tilt it aside and get at his neck. She dabs at him and he shoves down the urge to push her away. “There we go, all clean.” She holds up the hanky, showing the red spots of blood she’d wiped away. “A lot less than last time,” she comments.

“Thank you,” Five forces out.

***

Five is eating more now.

He figured that would help with his energy levels, but he still tires out fast and stumbles out of his jumps. He’s weak and he knows it.

There’s progress of course, he’s nothing like when he first arrived at the Commission.

But even now his chest hurts after exercising, leaving him thoroughly winded, and he’s still stick thin in a way that’s not healthy.

But most annoyingly is his lack of energy, especially now that he’s jumping again. He hasn’t had such small limits since he was a child.

He…finds a remedy quite on accident.

Carla is away from her desk and Five has been left in the small waiting area while the Handler talks with some analysts. He’s thirsty. But he’s expected to stay where he’s told.

And sitting oh so innocently on Carla’s desk is a mug of liquid.

Five has very few scruples after his months spent in the Apocalypse. He’s eaten things he never thought himself capable of. What’s a mug someone’s lips have touched to squirming cockroaches?

He snatches the mug and sips the liquid. It’s not tea he’s thankful to realize, though he wouldn’t care too much at the moment. It’s slightly bitter, but also sweet, infinitely better than soggy leaf water. He downs the rest of it and sets the mug back exactly where it sat before, licking his lips clear of evidence.

Later Carla returns to her empty little waiting room and finds her mug curiously empty. Her eyes dart around in suspicion, entirely sure she’d had at least two-thirds of her coffee left to drink.

Down in the lower levels Five’s body shakes as he tries to write out numbers in Extra Ordinary with steady hands. He feels the need to move, shifting restlessly on the bed until he can’t take it anymore and stands. He paces, his steps speeding up and slowing down unconsciously as he buzzes.

Finally, he blinks to the other side of the room, sure that will drain him enough to sit still. He doesn’t so much as stumble as he lands.

***

He hunts for more of the energy giving liquid.

Carla starts taking her mug with her everywhere after the fifth time she returns to find it empty. Other Commission employees are finding themselves in a similar situation of losing their coffee if they so much as take their eyes off it for more than a few seconds. Accusations are thrown around, un-caffeinated and irritable workers looking for whoever thinks themselves such a funny prankster. Poor Bob nearly gets impaled by a pencil when he wanders too close to his deskmate’s mug.

Five meanwhile finds himself having more energy to jump about.

He likes the coffee he’s stolen, though he prefers it when it’s warm and not chilled to room temperature and slimy.

He is aware that there is a source somewhere, a place where everyone is getting their coffee supply. And after far too many cold cups he decides to locate the source himself.

He supposes he could’ve done so earlier instead of taking from office workers. But it had been nice to inconvenience them. He’d even seen the analyst, Dot, copying papers and managed to take her coffee without being noticed.

But now he stands at the source of the precious, energy giving liquid, the employee breakroom.

It’s empty save for him, the time far past lunch and ensuring he won’t be interrupted. He goes to the coffeemaker and eyes the dark liquid.

Most of the cups he’d taken were a lighter brown, most likely filled with cream to sweeten the liquid.

He sets about making himself a cup, pouring coffee and then cream into a mug and bringing it to his lips. He sips—

—and spits it back out into the mug as hot and bitter liquid hits his tastebuds.

He hisses, face scrunching up in distaste. None of the other cups had been so nasty, so absolutely unpleasant. They were aromatic and—and sweet…

“Sugar, stupid,” Five groans to himself.

Sure enough, on the counter there is a container filled with sugar packets, the surface itself is covered in the small granules.

His father hadn’t banned sugar outright, but it was never permitted in excess. Five wasn’t sure where the line of acceptable and excess lay and he didn’t particularly care as he stood alone in the Commission. He grabbed a few packets and then some more. Five packets for Five, he thought, ripping their tops and pouring them together.

The waterline of his cup rose to match the displacement, dangerously close to overflowing. Five carefully stirred his concoction, moving slow to ensure no drops escape.

That finished, he stared down at the overfull mug and decided it was too full to attempt lifting. He leaned down and sipped at the liquid, the pleasant sweetness soothing his tongue of the previous bitter taste. Perhaps sugar would fix tea as well.

Satisfied he wouldn’t spill, Five picked up his mug and made for the door.

The door that swung into him just as he reached it.

“Shit,” he curses, as hot liquid is flung onto him, his mug shattering on the ground.

“Shit!” the girl in the doorway exclaims, grabbing his elbow to steady him as he stumbles.

Five regains his stability, looking down at his gray uniform to see a large wet stain all over the front, sticking his clothes to him uncomfortably.

“That’s my bad,” the girl says quickly, waving her hand in the air between them as if to pat him clean. She seems to find that idea good, hurrying past him to the counter to grab napkins, dark braids trailing after her. Five stares.

He hasn’t seen anyone his age at the Commission and it’s starting to register that he is in fact seeing a young girl right this instant. She speaks with a lilting accent, similar to how Allison used to do a British accent imitation, though this girl’s is natural and fluid in comparison.

“Here let me!” she says, coming back and shoving a wad of napkins against his chest, and proceeding to pat him down forcefully.

Five scowls, stepping back and swatting her still moving hands away. The way she tries to help is like Klaus, overenthusiastic and not actually helpful. “Back off!”

“No, no I insist!” she says, reaching for him once more with a scowl of her own.

She follows him stubbornly as he steps back. “Would you stop!?” Five growls.

She lunges forward and Five catches her wrists, her momentum making them slide in the coffee puddle on the floor. Five’s feet slip from under him, sending both of them to the ground in a tangle.

Five yelps as his hand catches on a ceramic shard from his broken mug and the girl grunts as her chin collides with his knee.

“Ow,” the girl whines, hand holding her jaw as she works it.

Five slides away from her, cheeks red with anger and cradling his hand to his chest. “You deserve that.”

The girl drops her hand, anger flaring in her eyes. “Excuse me! I was just trying to help!”

“I told you to back off!” Five yells back.

She shrinks back a little at his volume and then puffs up, unwilling to back down. “You’re an utter bastard that needs to learn gratitude!” she yells childishly.

“And you need to use those useless lumps of flesh on your head and learn to listen!” Five shoots back, pulling himself from the ground.

“U-useless—”

“That’s what I said,” Five confirms, moving to the door and ignoring the mess on the floor. Now he desperately needs a shower.

“You shit, get back here!” the girl calls indignantly.

Five doesn’t look back, slipping out the door and blinking away when it swings shut.

***

He barely makes it inside his bathroom when there’s a knock on the door.

Another summons from the Handler. Urgent business apparently.

Five scowls at the employee’s back as the man leads him to the upper levels insistently. His clothes are still soaked through, and the liquid marring them has begun to cling in a sticky combination of sugar and coffee. The Handler will have a field day seeing him like this.

Carla doesn’t even glance up from her post and Five takes that as his cue to enter the office.

“Lila this is Number Five,” the Handler says as the door closes, looking to the other occupant of the office.

“You!” the girl from earlier hisses, finger jabbing at Five accusatorily.

The Handler stares at Lila and then her eyes sweep to Five, taking in his state. One remarkably similar to Lila’s. “I see you two have already met,” she says amused now.

“Unfortunately,” Five can’t help but mutter.

“I concur,” Lila adds.

The Handler moves to sit at her desk, while Five and Lila size each other up from opposite sides of the room. “Five, this is my daughter, Lila.”

Five blinks in surprise, eyes darting between them. Lila catches it and smirks, arms crossing over her chest. The smirk drops off fast.

“You two will be working together,” the Handler informs them, drawing incredulous looks from both of them.

“You never mentioned _that_ ,” Lila says.

“I did tell you that you would have a new companion soon.”

Lila’s eyes go wide, shooting to Five, “ _Him_?”

“What do you mean working together?” Five asks.

The Handler fixes him with a pleasant smile that isn’t actually pleasant. “I mean working together in whatever way I see fit. The two of you will be my most trusted and loyal, far above everyone else working here. We’re a unit now, none of us are alone.” Her head tilts, “Consider us like family.”

“I have a family,” Five corrects. He won’t fall into her game, playing family with her and Lila to replace what he’s lost. He’s not giving up on his family even if they’re gone right now. He never will.

Lila’s head snaps his way, but he ignores her. The Handler is all that matters in this moment.

“A dead family,” she answers back bluntly. “You are effectively an orphan. Have I not granted you everything you need? Didn’t I save you from a lifetime of suffering alone?”

Five’s hands curl into fists, the cut from the broken mug stinging and bleeding, filling his palm with heat.

The Handler doesn’t allow his silence. “Answer me, Number Five.”

“Yes, you did,” Five says, cheeks burning at having the Handler and Lila watching him in this moment.

“This is your new home, Five,” the Handler says softer, but no less firm. “You have me and Lila now.”

Five drops his eyes, “Right.”

***

The thing is…

…Five really doesn’t like Lila.

***

Five is starting to tire as Lila pushes towards him, forcing him to block jabs or risk a broken nose. She’s pressing forward after him much like the Handler does in their matches, trying to herd him where she wants.

But Lila is not the Handler.

She lacks experience where the older woman has it in droves. This means Five can redirect them whenever he feels too close to being cornered and inexperienced Lila takes a few moments too long to block him as he slips past her assault.

He’s tiring though, they’ve been pushing and pulling for uninterrupted minutes now and he can feel the way his chest burns from the exertion. He usually doesn’t last this long in the ring with the Handler and he’s finding his endurance being tested.

Lila’s tan face is tinged red, hair frizzing out of her twin braids, yet she isn’t breathing hard.

Five needs to end the fight.

Lila overswings a punch and Five is too slow to take advantage before she recovers. What it does is throw off the rhythm she had and Five decides it’s time to go on the offensive. He slaps a slow punch away from himself and punches Lila right in her sternum. She grunts in surprise and Five quickly switches from retreat to forward attack, forcing her to give ground to him. They fall into a new pattern and Five allows it. It was a tactic he used against Diego time and time again, lulling his brother with the repetitiveness until he was responding instinctively, and then Five would end it by suddenly switching out of his pattern and watching his brother fail to adapt.

Lila doesn’t adapt.

Five catches her fist, an attempt to push him back, and takes the opportunity to pull her legs from under her with a backward sweep of his own. Lila goes down with a yelp and Five quickly puts his foot on her chest. He keeps the pressure light, nothing more than a warning not to get up.

Her dark eyes glare up at him and he returns the look whole heartedly.

“Good show,” the Handler says from the sidelines.

Five takes his eyes off Lila for a moment and regrets it instantly.

As he looks away and she grabs his stable foot and yanks, sending him to the ground with jarring impact. Five’s breath rushes out of him and in the next moment Lila is up and planting her own foot on his chest.

“You shouldn’t be so lax around the enemy,” she sing-songs, just like Klaus would. She’s smug and arrogant like Diego and Allison when they got the better of Five. She looks down at him haughtily, lips curled in a smirk and eyes challenging him to contest her. He can’t of course, too tired from their fight. His chest presses into her sole as he gasps to recover his breath.

Five hates her.

The Handler is talking and Five can’t hear it. Lila does look away though, adding pressure to his chest so he can’t try the same trick on her. He watches her face morph, open and seeking approval from the Handler like a flower seeking the sun. She looks remarkably like Luther when he tried to impress their father and Five wishes he could smack her and make the similarities he sees disappear. He closes his eyes instead.

“That’s enough for today, little one,” the Handler says.

“I can keep going though,” Lila is quick to inform.

“Of that I have little doubt, however I think Five could do with a break.”

“Right,” Lila mutters, removing her foot finally. Five remains where he is, enjoying the reclined position as he waits.

“Clean up in here, I have work to attend to, and later we can have dinner together,” the Handler says, voice fading away.

It’s quiet for a moment as the doors close behind her.

“Oi, you asleep?” Lila asks, toe poking at Five’s side. “Get up and help me.”

Five smiles. “Sure thing,” he chirps, far brighter than he normally is, and twists to kick Lila’s feet from under her. She shrieks, slamming into the ground again.

They lay sprawled on the floor, the only sound in the training area is their breathing, Five’s still overly loud compared to Lila’s.

“I hate you,” she growls eventually.

“Good,” Five says back.


	2. I Saw Him in a Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really trying to put aside time for fun writing while also doing school, so here's another chapter that I surprisingly finished

Lila was four when her mother rescued her, whisked her away from her home filled with the dying screams of her parents.

Lila was terrified and so, so alone. Not yet understanding what exactly had happened, just knowing that her parents had hid her away frantically, inside the walls themselves. They’d cried out right next to her as she cowered and clenched her hands over her ears.

When the door opened she’d shrunk back in fear.

The woman that crouched before her was not what she expected to greet her. Blonde hair that tumbled down her shoulders and sparkly red shoes that caught the dim light of the house. Lila was transfixed.

“Well,” she said with a low and soothing voice. “Well, well, well. Look what we have here.” Lila didn’t move, eyes locked on the woman. Then she was holding up one of Lila’s action figures, lips curling as she offered it to the girl. “Does this belong to you?”

Lila finally overcame her fear, reaching out and taking the familiar piece of plastic. The woman chuckled, smile widening. “Come here, darling.” She held her arms out welcomingly, face kind. Lila hesitated a moment longer, the screams from before still bouncing in her head. “Come, come,” the woman offered once more and Lila gave in, crawling forward to wrap her arms around the woman’s neck and be lifted.

“Let’s get out of here,” the woman said, carrying Lila to the door. The girl didn’t miss the bodies on the floor, pools of dark red gathering around them, arms and legs tied together. Lila was glad to leave with the woman, her hands curling further into the soft collar of the woman’s coat as she was carried away from the horrible scene.

***

The next part was confusing.

There was a flash of blue and then they were in a place Lila didn’t recognize. It certainly was nowhere near the street she lived on and there was a different…feel to it, something Lila couldn’t describe at the time. Now she would say that she felt the change in time, of being somewhere she never should have.

The woman had taken her to an office and sat her down.

Lila had been silent the whole time. She hadn’t made a noise when her parents were murdered and she hadn’t made a sound in all the time she spent with the woman.

It was a surprise to both of them when a hiccup popped out of her mouth. And then another with prickly eyes to accompany it.

The woman looked momentarily alarmed before she moved to crouch in front of Lila. “Shh, it’s okay, Little One,” she reassured, hands cupping Lila’s cheeks.

Lila leaned into the touch as she shuddered, tears leaking from her eyes and her nose clogging awfully. “Mum…Da…” she mumbled, sniffling.

The woman smiled, thumbs brushing away the wet tracks. “There, there. No need for that, darling. Your family is right here.” And then Lila was being scooped up and cradled once more. She buried her face in the woman’s collar, enjoying how soft the fur felt on her hot face. “A little to the left, darling.” The woman directed Lila’s head away from the collar and to her shoulder instead.

Lila calmed slowly, the tears drying up on their own eventually. “Would you like ice cream?” the woman offered.

Lila nodded her head quickly against the rough material pressed to her cheek. The woman moved, pressing a button and speaking into a device on her desk. She set Lila back in the chair and rubbed her cheeks once more before holding out a hand to shake. “I believe introductions are in order. I’m the Handler.”

What a strange name Lila thought reaching out tentatively to grasp the hand offered. The Handler’s head tilted, “Do you have a name, or should I continue to call you, Little One?”

Lila ducked her head, suddenly shy. She liked the nickname it felt…safe. “ ‘m Lila…” she mumbled.

***

It didn’t take long for Lila to start calling the Handler “Mum”.

And really it was frustrating to continually say the title.

“Do you have a name?” Lila asked in the middle of a history lesson.

The Handler stopped what she was saying, pointer stick resting against the board she’d had dragged into the office. “I told you already, darling. My name is the Handler.”

Lila tilted her head in confusion. “Yeah, but what’s your real name? What can I call you and only you?”

”You misunderstand,” the Handler said. “My name _is_ the Handler.”

“Your parents named you that?” Lila asked bewildered. It was strange for a parent to name their kid something so impersonal right? And to go with a job title of all things?

“I had a name like yours a long time ago. I changed it, to prove my commitment to the Commission.”

Lila twisted her hands in her lap. “Will they make me change my name?” she asked tentatively. She rather liked her name and would hate to get rid of what her parents called her.

The Handler threw her head back and laughed, “Not unless you want to. I made the decision myself, but I think Lila is rather fitting for you.” She turned to the board and then paused. “Though I suppose if you’re having trouble with mine you could call me mom.”

Lila thought about it. She’d called her parents Mum and Da when they were alive, she’d understood that in a way she called them by their titles as well and not their real names. It made sense then to go with the Handler’s suggestion. The woman was taking care of Lila now, and had even called them family.

“Okay, Mum” she chirped, looking back at her papers satisfied.

***

Lila didn’t want for much, her mother saw to that she was well cared for and had the best training. This of course meant the Handler trained her. And Lila enjoyed the time she got with her during it, to be with her biggest connection to the world. Lila worked hard for her mother. She wanted to make her happy, to show her love towards the woman. There weren’t many ways to do this, but Lila found that when she excelled in training mother was happy and beaming. So, Lila threw herself into it, working to become the best Commission agent out there.

But…there were times when mum was busy that Lila felt her connection float away. She studied alone on days when she couldn’t follow in her mother’s footsteps. Their shared living area was quiet without the woman demanding answers from Lila in Mandarin or checking her knowledge of history.

The Handler had been busy a lot the past weeks. She was gone at night too which was a rare occurrence. Lila did her best not to pry or let her frustration show. Evidently she did a poor job of that.

“You must be feeling rather lonely lately,” the Handler said without buildup.

Lila nearly choked on her peas, eyes going wide as she looked at her mother. “N-no. Of course not.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. I know it’s true. In fact, I know it’s been true for a long time now,” the Handler picked up her glass, staring into the dark red wine.

She hadn’t been wrong. Lila was lonely whenever her mother was away for too long, it was a feeling Lila had suffered through since she first came to rely on the woman. But to admit that was ludicrous. Lila was not weak.

“How much of that wine have you had tonight?” Lila bluffed.

“What if I told you, you won’t be alone for much longer?” the Handler said, ignoring Lila’s comment.

“Are you getting time off?” Lila ventured, confused by her mother’s circular conversation topic.

The Handler smiled, “No, in fact I’d say I’m getting more work. I meant you’d soon be getting a new companion.”

Lila groaned. “Not another one of those desk jockeys. The last one couldn’t get one sentence out without soaking through his handkerchief due to nerves!”

“A brother.”

Lila blinked. She had to have misheard that, right?

Or no. Her mother’s lips were curled in uncontained amusement, which meant the news was either real or a trick. “Are you yanking my chain?”

“It just so happens that I found a boy in need of some help and now he’s fallen under my care in much the same way you did.”

Lila…didn’t know how to react. She slumped back in her chair. “…huh.”

***

The news occupied her mind near constantly.

She watched the Handler walk away from her. _To see him_. Every day the woman would go see this mysterious new child she’d obtained and leave Lila alone in their house or tucked away at headquarters to wait for her return like an eager puppy. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head, _jealousy is an unseemly look on you, darling_.

Lila couldn’t help it though!

Had she done something to make her mum angry? Was she doing badly in her studies?

Was she being replaced by someone better? Shoved aside like some withered old flowers only to be replaced by fresh ones.

She was being ridiculous of course, she knew that.

Because at the end of the day the Handler always came back to her, always called her little one or darling or one of the other numerous little nicknames that belonged to Lila.

And maybe it would be good?

Lila had never had a sibling. She has old and fragmented memories of children she played with, but nothing recent. Her mother was often exasperated with Lila’s complaints about only old people working at the Commission.

This brother could play with her, after studies of course. Lila could finally expand to two person card games like War or something.

This could be good, she decided nervous and excited.

***

“Ow,” Lila hisses for the third time, glaring at her _brother_.

He glares right back without apology, pulling them into the next steps of the dance without finesse. Lila would accuse him stomping on her toes on purpose if she hadn’t already realized that he just really sucks at dancing. He’s stiff, hands barely touching her and looking like he wants to disassociate from what’s happening. Not a single spark of enjoyment.

Not that Lila is having fun doing this either. She was not eager to participate in training that didn’t allow her to punch Five.

“Loosen up,” she growls lowly, teeth clenched in a fake smile. The Handler is standing at the edge of the room, watching them judgingly and Lila is aiming to impress. Her partner is throwing a wrench in those high aspirations.

A foot steps on her toes in a calculated move.

“Gah! You shit!” Lila whisper shouts.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Five says with a smile. She hates that smile, it’s too many teeth and all condescension.

She retaliates with her own attack, wishing she had heels like her mum’s and not ballet slip-ons. Five grunts in pain, eyebrow twitching. “Now we’re even.”

“Watch your footwork,” the Handler calls.

It makes Five go stiffer, as if that were possible, his face flushing at being called out. Lila relishes in his embarrassment, her own taking a backseat.

He makes a concerted effort not to step on her, for which Lila is grateful because her nails would likely turn black if the treatment continued.

They dance around in a waltz, nothing too hard, which is why it had surprised Lila when Five had been totally inept at the dance. As much as she hates to admit it, he is quick on his feet when they spar, often ducking under her moves or sidestepping on light feet. It’s like a flip is switched on the dancefloor.

Now he keeps glancing down at his feet, most likely to make sure he doesn’t step wrong, only to realize what he’s done is counter-intuitive and snap his eyes back up.

His eyes narrow, not in the angry way Lila notes, but more of an inquisitive narrowing she thinks. “What are you doing?”

“ _What_ do you mean?” Lila counters.

His eyes dart down again. “I’m supposed to lead.”

Lila follows his gaze now, watching as she unconsciously matches Five’s steps rather than allow him to guide her. It’s like they’re moving as a singular unit rather than two partners. “Well, maybe if you were better I wouldn’t feel the need to step up,” she accuses.

Five’s face colors at the insult. “Well, if you weren’t so freakishly tall it wouldn’t feel like guiding a glacier,” he snaps back.

It’s a horrible comeback.

For one, there is no way his terrible dancing is her fault.

And secondly, Lila is only two inches taller than him.

“You’re so full of shit!” Lila cackles, disengaging from the dance. She exaggerates a sway towards him and kicks out slowly. “Oh no, look out here comes big bertha.”

Five scowls and steps out of range of her foot. He is just no fun.

“Face it, I’m like a…a wolf and you’re the equivalent of a sack of potatoes with stumps for legs,” she grins.

“A wolf? That’s awfully pretentious of you,” he sneers.

“Awfully pretentious of you to use pretentious in a sentence, what are you a snooty, old man?”

“I’d rather be an old man than an immature child.” That’s rich coming from him Lila thinks. Then Five’s mouth twitches into a smirk, “Or should I call you a puppy. Do you know any tricks yet? Lila, play dead.”

Lila’s grin widens. “Maybe you can teach me that one, Five. I can do this though—” Lila tosses her head back and howls, cupping her hands and letting out some yips for flavor. The sound drifts up towards the high ceiling, drowning out the music that’s been playing for them.

She trails off slowly, looking back at Five. He has his hands covering his ears, irritation all over his face. “You’re crazy,” he huffs.

Lila frowns at him. “I’m eccentric.”

He shakes his head. “That’s what crazy people say to seem normal.”

“Quirky?”

“Desperate to be special.”

“…Weird?”

“A cry for attention.”

“As happy as I am to see you two banter, you are supposed to be practicing your dancing.” The Handler’s voice cuts between them. She steps up to them and Lila realizes that the music has been stopped. A hand skates up Lila’s neck, resting at the base of her skull warmly. Mum sighs, “I suppose I’ll have to separate you two if we’re to make any progress. Lila, dear, go start the music again.”

That warm hand slips away and Lila sorely misses it.

The Handler moves opposite of Five, positioning his limbs properly. He had loosened a bit during their exchange, but Lila sees that he stands stiff once again.

She huffs, moving to the side of the room to get the record player going again.

“Come now, don’t make that face, Little One,” the Handler says.

Lila looks back at her mother in confusion and stops short in realization. Because the Handler isn’t looking at _her_ , she’s looking at _Five_. Using _Lila’s_ nickname on _him_.

“Lila, the music,” the Handler reminds her after Lila stands still and unmoving for too long. Five cranes his neck to look at her, his brow furrowing in confusion when he catches her eyes before something clears in them and his eyes widen a bit.

Lila turns around quickly, not sure what he saw on her face, and starts the music again, moving the needle onto the record with too much force and creating a grating sound in the room before the music kicks in.

Lila can hear her mother speaking behind her back, instructing the boy. “Now, loosen up a bit darling, I won’t bite. Eyes up and step…” Lila’s shoulders scrunch up in annoyance.

Any entertainment she’d derived from her exchange with Five has shriveled up in light of her mother’s special treatment of him. Not so special to Lila anymore, not when she has to share with the abrasive boy.

***

The thing about Five is he never looks happy.

Lila watches him closely feeling…angry.

It’s not just that her mother calls him her nicknames, though it started there. It’s…he never looks happy about anything, and that pisses Lila off more than she could have predicted.

“Why is he like that?” Lila asked one night.

The Handler kept her eyes on her paperwork, even though she’d promised not to work at home as much. “Who?”

“ _Five_. He’s always—” Lila mimics an exaggerated scowl, baring her teeth “—I don’t get it.”

“He’s adjusting. When I picked him up that boy wouldn’t say more than two words, and now look at him. Full sentences,” the Handler said. “I’ve been patient with him, I even gave him some assignments. It’s all small steps and breaking down barriers.”

“You gave him assignments?” Lila asked in disbelief.

“Of course I did, you can’t just leave a boy like him to fester. He starts doing things like playing with rats or testing his limits. He needed somewhere to put his energy and I provided the outlet.”

“If he gets assignments then how come I still haven’t—”

“—Lila, we’ve talked about this numerous times and you know I hate repeating myself,” the Handler interrupted, voice brokering no disagreement.

“That’s not fair,” Lila accused, leaning back in her chair.

“It’s not a matter of fairness. When I feel you are ready to be in the field then you will be assigned a case, until that time I expect you to train harder than anyone.” Smoky eyes met Lila’s, “I’m expecting great things from you, Little One.”

And that had been the end of that.

Now sitting across from Five, as he disassembles and reassembles a sniper rifle while she times him, she’s puzzled.

She has watched him and her mother interact. She’s seen the way the Handler offers affection to him only to be met with indifference and a wooden posture.

He’s been on assignment. He is being provided for and offered a family.

Yet it doesn’t seem good enough for him. He’s ungrateful.

Five finishes putting the rifle back together.

“You were a second slower on that one,” Lila says bored. She doesn’t actually look at the watch and that fact gets Five’s hackles raised.

“Maybe you should do your job and actually look,” he says.

“No, I don’t need to, I just know these things.”

They stare each other down, neither blinking.

Lila’s eye is watering but she won’t blink and show weakness.

“Is Number Five your real name?” she tries to throw him off.

He stares unblinkingly, the only sign of fatigue being his twitching eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Your parents must have hated you. I mean something so impersonal and dehumanizing, no wonder you’re a miserable sod.” She tuts, both eyes burning from not blinking.

Five looks down his nose at her, “And I suppose your parents loved you because they named you Lila. I would guess it was the Handler but I don’t think she’s capable of that kind of emotion.”

Lila snarls at him. He's so sure of himself, like he knows everything. Well he doesn't know Mum and refuses to learn. “You know your problem Five—”

Five scoffs, looking away and breaking their eye contact. Lila can’t even get satisfaction from winning their unofficial contest because it feels like Five is dismissing her. Like she’s beneath his attention.

“—Your problem is you’re so stuck in the past that you can’t see any of the good in front of you.”

Five rolls his eyes and Lila snaps.

“Your family is dead,” she says harshly, satisfied when his head snaps up to look at her, “get over it. I know what it’s like to lose your family. Looking back you see only the good and ignore all the bad.” She remembers asking her mother about her parents, feeling young and lost and so damn melancholy over something she couldn’t even remember properly. _A brutal robbery. They owed a debt and their debtors got tired of waiting peacefully for it to be fulfilled. They brought misfortune down on themselves with alcohol and gambling._ Mum had pet her hair back and smiled, _Though if their misfortune had not happened I never would have gotten you._ “Mum saved you, if you ask me you’re better off here instead of living in whatever distorted fantasy is in your head. At least Mum sees you as more than a number.”

She waits for the denials and the lies to come spilling from his mouth. She had struggled after all. She had clung to that ideal of a happy little family in East London and fought against the disappointing truth. That her first parents had been imperfect, so deep in their vices that they ultimately caused their own demise and allowed Lila to be orphaned. Without the Handler Lila would either be dead or stuck in a system that doesn’t care one iota for her personally.

Five loves to be contradictory though.

He laughs.

Lila stares in bewilderment. She’s never seen him so much as crack a smile and now he’s laughing. What she said should not have made him laugh. It’s sort of mocking, the way he looks at her but there must have been something he found legitimately hilarious because it’s—it’s a genuine laugh.

Finally he calms down a little, though there’s a smirk plastered on his face making his dimple visible on his cheek. “You’re so young and naïve,” he condescends.

“We’re the same age,” Lila snaps. He’s not supposed to react this way.

“Age doesn’t equal knowledge or wisdom. You have no idea what you’re talking about and you’re too blind to see the bullshit you’re spouting.” He stands, slinging the rifle over his shoulder and walking away. He pauses though, throwing her a look over his shoulder. “Oh, and if you’re really that jealous then take it up with the Handler.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He stares at her, face suddenly blank and unreadable. “You’re not subtle. If your relationship with her is really that special, then ask her to pay more attention to you and leave me out of it.”

Lila sputters, watching his back as he leaves her sitting on the floor alone.

She really hates him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun to just kinda explore Lila a bit. Poor kid's going from being an only child to suddenly having competition for the Handler's attention while the Handler is *totally oblivious* and definitely *not* seeing a 'carrot on a stick' opportunity. Five is in the corner like "leave me the hell out of this." Like he's perfectly fine fighting and arguing with Lila but he's lived with Luther and Diego and really does not want to deal with the same kind of situation, especially when he doesn't even want the Handler's attention in the first place.
> 
> Lila, a traumatized four year old: *cries on the Handler*.  
> The Handler, making the child move: Not on the fur, darling.
> 
> Lila, finding out she's going to have a brother: This could be good!  
> Lila, after meeting Five: This guy's an asshole, but fun to poke.  
> Lila, when the Handler calls Five Little One: So you have chosen death.
> 
> Five watching Lila get jealous when he receives unwanted attention from the Handler:  
> *flashbacks to his childhood with Luther and Diego trying to earn their father's love by tearing each other down*  
> Five: Ah shit, here we go again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I will add more to this and I might even write the next chapter from Lila's perspective, but fyi I've never written Lila so this will be fun because it's also her as a kid so I'm feeling it out, I hope she wasn't too bad here and also her and Five were being dicks to each other so take that as you will.
> 
> Five has not gained his old man taste of coffee, in fact he has my younger self's taste of putting five packets in one cup (I don't do that now thankfully).
> 
> The Handler in this chapter: *pushes Lila forward* Here's your new family!  
> Five: Ew. I have family at home.  
> The Handler: You have no home and your family is dead.  
> Five: Fine, I'll take it but I won't like it. (Yeah, sure thing Five)
> 
> The Handler as Five walks in the door: Here's that sibling I promised you.  
> Lila, staring at Five: Mum, I thought you loved me. (Well- *gets shot before I can answer*)


End file.
